


Blame the fluffy wolf onesie

by Little_Lottie (tfwatson)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Bucky Barnes, Fluff and Smut, Happy birthday Becki, M/M, Prompt Fill, Rimming, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 11:23:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8370355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tfwatson/pseuds/Little_Lottie
Summary: “Is that a…” Steve continues slowly, blinking as though he must be seeing things “…a onesie?”
    The book’s covering half of Bucky’s face but it does nothing to muffle his amused snigger. Steve’s brow is furrowed in adorably intense confusion, and he actually sounds offended by the whole situation.   Bucky lets Steve see his smirk, because it is indeed, a onesie. And Bucky is positively wrapped up in the thing, fingers curling fondly around the cuffs to relish the softness.  For the prompt: Bucky in a onesie and fluffy fluff with a side of smut





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Slaughter_Me](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slaughter_Me/gifts).



> Happy birthday @slaughterme-barnes! You deserve all the fluffy smutty Stucky goodness.

“Nat and Clint are coming for dinner.”

 

Steve’s voice carries through the apartment and Bucky can’t help the grin that curves its way onto his lips.

 

He feels like he’s been killing time for hours, just waiting for Steve and doing little else. He has a book in his hands but let’s face it, opening it up on his lap and actually reading it are two entirely different things.

 

He waits for the sound of the door slamming and eagerly glances up to watch Steve step into the room, skin buzzing with anticipation.

 

“I’ll make burgers,” Steve says, dropping a bag on the kitchen counter and picking up the fresh coffee Bucky had poured for him. “But maybe I should-” He takes one look at Bucky, a quick sweep of the eyes, and cuts himself off abruptly with a little gasp.

 

Bucky squirms on the sofa where he’s currently curled up and bites his lip in delight.

 

“- cancel. I’m gonna cancel.”

 

Bucky smirks, eyes peering over the book and up at Steve through long lashes.

 

“Why?” He asks, affecting an innocent tone.

 

Steve ignores him, and with wide eyes he shakes his head and says, “What the fuck are you wearing?”

 

Bucky tries to hide the obvious shiver of desire. He loves the way Steve’s deep voice sounds around a curse, the way the Brooklyn comes out. He won’t hide the grin though. He’s been waiting all afternoon to see Steve’s reaction, and he’s going to damn well enjoy it.

 

“Is that a…” Steve continues slowly, blinking as though he must be seeing things “…a onesie?”

 

The book’s covering half of Bucky’s face but it does nothing to muffle his amused snigger. Steve’s brow is furrowed in adorably intense confusion, and he actually sounds offended by the whole situation.

 

Bucky drops the book away from his face and lets Steve see the smirk that he would’ve known full well was on his lips anyway. Because it is indeed, a onesie. And Bucky is positively wrapped up in the thing, fingers curling fondly around the cuffs to relish the softness.

 

It hadn’t been a once seen-must have kind of purchase. He’ll claim till his dying day that he never would have looked twice at the thing but for the fact that his therapist told him to buy one. Apparently he’s a tactile person and the sense of touch can be grounding. It had seemed pretty unlikely that fluffy nightwear could aid trauma, but he didn’t argue because getting it placated her. It also bought him more time before he had to tackle the rest of her good intentioned advice. Besides, he likes that it's fluffy, goddamnit.

 

Bucky raises his eyebrows and grins, all teeth. Mouth gaping open, Steve just stares back at him, and Bucky has to wonder how much of the hilariously affronted expression is because of his choice of clothing, and how much is resentment that almost every slip of skin from neck to ankle is covered.

 

A seduction hadn’t seemed on the cards when he put it on this afternoon, but it certainly seems like a possibility now. He bites his lip and looks down at himself, and wonders whether he can actually make this work. He shrugs and decides to go for it anyway.

 

“You want me wearing something else, baby?”

 

The not-question flirts in the air around them as Steve rakes dark, disbelieving eyes up and down Bucky’s fluffy form.

 

“ _Anything_ else,” Steve insists.

 

“Fuck off, Rogers,” he returns flippantly, but he’s pursing his lips on a fresh smile.

 

He knows Steve’s subtext. ‘Anything else’/ ‘Nothing else’. Same difference.

 

And Bucky _knows_ he wants him, despite the onesie, and maybe even because of it. He knows it as certainly as he knows that Steve loves him; with his whole heart and since he was sixteen.

 

“You don’t like it?” He asks around what he knows to be an irresistibly coquettish curl of lips.

 

It’s another question that isn’t really a question because now Bucky’s made up his mind and is enthusiastically drinking in Steve’s body - from his messy blonde hair to the too-small blue t shirt and down to his socked feet – and Bucky can _see_ how much Steve likes it.

 

The not-so-tight jeans are tighter where Bucky wants them to be, and much tighter than they were three minutes ago.

 

“I look hot.”

 

Steve nods absently, but says, “I can’t take you seriously in that.”

 

“You don’t have to,” Bucky says, lazily stretching across the sofa entirely for Steve’s benefit. “You don’t need to take me seriously to fuck me.”

 

He stands up, letting his movements turn honey slow and silky smooth, and Steve inhales sharply, looking momentarily frozen. Bucky takes the opportunity to slink around him and seize the coffee out of his hands, biting his lip and winking dirtily as he does. Steve watches his progress with a barely concealed hunger, now empty hands comically flexing around a phantom mug.

 

Bucky leans against the counter at a distance he’s calculated very carefully and chuckles low in his throat. Steve is just adorable like this. He instinctively turns the mug so he’s sipping from the side where Steve’s lips have just been.

 

Steve’s eyes are suddenly sharp and he tilts his head slightly. “Does… does the hood have wolf ears on it?”

 

“I don’t know Steve, come a bit closer and take a look.”

 

Steve’s face flushes, but there’s a sudden desire in his eyes and the next thing he knows Steve has taken the mug out of his hand and has thrown it into the sink.

 

“Take it off,” Steve commands, his voice low and deep.

 

Bucky feels a moan rise in his throat, knows it will come out as a whimper. He doesn’t care. Steve has heard him whimper, and worse, so he lets it slip from his lips as he rushes to comply.

 

He quickly brings his fingers up to feel for the zipper, but then Steve is pressed up flush against him, pinning his flesh hand between their chests. And Steve’s broad hands are on him, smoothing his fingers over the dark gray material, flexing and grabbing handfuls of fluff, running his fingers up Bucky’s body to follow the lines of his muscles before sliding to cup his jaw in a firm hold.

 

“Bucky,” he breathes.

 

Bucky shivers because this is _Steve_ , and it's Steve breathing his name and it’s as familiar as the ground under his feet, but more stable by far.

 

The counter’s a hard pressure against his back, but he wants it, he wants Steve to pin him and make quick work of removing this ridiculous onesie. What was deliciously snuggly an hour ago, is an unbearable inferno now his blood’s running hot and Steve’s unwavering body heat is pressed against him as close as physically possible.

 

Steve has his chin in a firm grip now. “It’s coming off. Any minute now, it’s coming right off.”

 

“Sure,” Bucky purrs.

 

Huffing in annoyance, Steve rushes their lips together, opening up straight away for a filthy kiss. Bucky smiles into it, runs his tongue along Steve’s lower lip before licking into his mouth. Steve groans and rocks his hips up, rubbing their cocks together through the layers of clothing.

 

Bucky pants at the feeling, and it's obviously good for Steve too because he’s groaning into Bucky’s mouth, then gripping hard on his metal arm and twisting him around so he’s leaning over the counter.

 

“Shit,” Steve mutters, palming over the fleece. “They should make furniture out of this stuff.”

 

“What? So you can hump the sofa when everyone’s here for movie night?”

 

Steve’s sharp inhale of breath makes Bucky grin.

 

“You’re so fucking weird, you know that right?”

 

If possible, Bucky’s grin grows wider. He knows it, all right. He also knows that Steve is diverting because he's still rock hard against the groove of Bucky ass, touching along every centimeter it's possible to touch, and that’s just fine because he wants to smell Steve on that onesie every fucking time he wears it.

 

After one particularly forceful snap of hips, Steve bites out, “Come on. Bed, now.”

 

Bucky lets himself be dragged willingly, knowing that he’s won, knowing that Steve will take care of him and trembling at the coil of liquid lust that tightens in his belly at just the thought of Steve taking him apart.

 

In the bedroom, Steve slams him against the wall. Hard, because he knows Bucky can take it. Bucky gasps out a breathless laugh. He’s so turned on and he’s still in the damn onesie.

 

“It does have a zipper, Stevie,” he snaps impatiently. “It’s not a second skin.”

 

Steve snorts but his competent, practiced, uniform-removing fingers are unfastening, stripping, and replacing its warmth with hot hands that drag down from Bucky's shoulders to the dimple of his lower back.

And Steve is biting at his neck and moaning into his skin. Jesus, Bucky will never get enough of those moans.

 

He feels the air shift as Steve lowers to his knees and he braces his hands against the wall, whining in expectation. He feels sweet, warm puffs of breath against the curve of his ass, and doesn’t have to look over his shoulder to see Steve gazing up the line of his body, eyes dazed with want. He can imagine it because he’s seen it dozens of times before, and the mix of memories, both nostalgic and new, makes his achingly hard cock twitch and has him grinding his forehead painfully into the wall to distract him from coming on the spot.

 

Steve chuckles, because he’s a little shit, before palming Bucky’s ass, and licking a broad stripe between his cheeks. Bucky’s choked off cry is met with another huff of laughter that he feels against his sensitized skin, and then Steve’s tongue is back to play over his rim.

 

“Shit,” Bucky gasps, spreading his fingers against the wall. “You _really_ like that onesie,” he continues with a shit eating grin. “I’ll put one on your Amazon wish list.”

 

With a blink, Bucky realizes his mistake. Steve’s still pretending he doesn’t care for the onesie, suggestions for furniture upholstery aside, and sure enough, he’s pulling away with an irritated grunt.

 

“If you want my dick anywhere near your ass tonight, you will not say another word.” His voice holds that note of Captain America authority that goes straight to Bucky’s cock.

 

“Okay, okay, shit, alright.”

 

“ _‘_ Not say another word’ means ‘Shut the fuck up,’ Bucky.”

 

He shuts his mouth with such force there is an audible clack of teeth, then presses his lips together for good measure.

 

His whole body shivers and he knows that he’ll be spending the next hour biting into the bed sheets to keep from running his mouth, and burying his face in a pillow to muffle his moans.

 

And okay… maybe, just maybe, that onesie was a more self-indulgent purchase than he originally thought.

**Notes**

Please comment or kudos if you like it.

And feel free to come say hi on [Tumblr](http://little-lottie.tumblr.com/) !


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